They look at danger and laugh their heads off.
I am officially declaring war on the Universal Channel.
Anyone who wishes to join me in the conflict can.We can call ourselves the Reid Regiment.
(See what I did there?)
I'm not gonna shout or scream this time.I am just going to alert people that this is unfuckingacceptable.I am having fucking withdrawal symptoms from this, goddammit.I will not fucking stand for this.Half the reason I freaking watch Criminal Minds is because of him.
Me and like 7578576938745 other people.
If you would like to see how dedicated I am to Matthew-we're on first names basis,y'see-just have a look at my most Google'd shit on my iPod.
-ray toro fro(I think it's best if I don't explain this.)
-matthew gray gubler
-matthew gray gubler coming back to criminal minds
-WHEN IS MATTHEW GRAY GUBLER COMING BACK TO CRIMINAL MINDS
-UNIVERSAL CHANNEL HQ
-UNIVERSAL CHANNEL HQ PHONE NUMBER
-guns for cheap rates
Okay,last one was a joke,but everything else was true.Specially the 'fro one.
Oh yeah,and to all the hardcore dear-jesus-it's-creepy-how-much-you-know-about-them-sweet-christ-get-away-from-me MCR fans,today I was playing cricket with my friend-named Frankie,how appropriate-
Sidenote,he's gay.And plays guitar.And has like 87093846 dogs...
Anyway,I was playing cricket with him,and he's shit at it and then he bowled shitly and I hit it like nine thousand feet away from me and I was like:
"I AM MASTER OF THE WICKET!!!!!!!11111one"
and I was like running around the pitch just like,"kiss my ring motherfuckers I am fucking KING OF THIS SHIT."
and he knows me well enough to be like,"that's a My Chem quote ain't it?"(the wicket thing)
and I was like,"note to self;make more friends that are obsessed with MCR and will not back away slowly when I talk about their amazingness/music/Ray's fro"
Yeah,so LOTMS quotes ftw.
The marathon of depressing songs is continuing,but on a different level today.It's less of the piano-songs-that-make-me-wish-nothing-exists and more of the late 90's to early 00's acoustic guitar songs,like
Animal Instinct-The Cranberries
Listening to OK Computer now.God help me I actually adore Radiohead so much,I have seen them three times and all those times I just fucking DIED.It's like,when I'm listening to other bands I'm just like
"Yeah this song is pretty good may consider putting this on iPod"
Listening to Radiohead:
"I HAVE DISCOVERED THE NECTAR OF THE GODS ALL OTHER MUSICAL ARTISTS MUST BOW DOWN BEFORE RADIOHEAD'S AWESOMENESS ALL HAIL YORKE GREENWOOD GREENWOOD O' BRIEN AND SELWAY"
Sorry.But I was so moved by the song Creep that I am now wearing my Radiohead shirt.It's a blue one that I got on the 2008 tour.I've never washed it or let it out of my sight because I know my stepmoms gonna burn it or summat.
Oh yeah,and there's no violence in this,just a bit of description,because I didn't really feel like depressing myself further.
Okay,I promise to start in a second but I just want to share with you my pain in life;so I was texting my so called "friend" about the Matthew situation,hoping she'd support me in my time of need,ya know,and guess what she fucking gives me?
"lorna,do you know how privileged you are?you have a great life,you're in a developed country,you don't have to walk like 6 miles a day for water or something?and you're fucking whining about some guy not being on law and order?how about u get sum senses?"
"criminal minds,not law & order.therefore argument=invalid"
Bitch just got PWNED,
(oh yeah,and I know Franks reaction is like really dramatic,but my sister is one of those people who cant stand the sight of blood and thats how she reacts,so...yeah.)
First of the Gang to Die
Certain People I Know
"E che quello che cazzo volevano?!Farsi prendere?!"
Frank tried to block himself from the screams and spits and shots coming from the next room.He was already sweating from the horrifying torturing that was taking place in the chamber,and his ears were ringing with the dying screeches of Michael Way.
He hadn't been able to understand any of the interrogation going on-it was all in fluent,enraged Italian that,he noticed,had made Raymond wince and grimace.Once or twice his eyes had even widened and mouth had fallen open.
"What's he saying?"Frank had attempted to ask the bodyguard ten minutes into the torture.
"Shouldn't say,"he muttered,"don't think he wants you to hear."
Frank thought that was hardly likely,considering the volume at which Gerard was currently roaring.
"Do you know how much longer this is gonna be?"He whimpered.He was hearing cracks and ripping and most terrifying of all,squelches.
"Only a half hour gone,sir,"was the apologetic answer,"at least another hour to go."
Frank groaned.The constant lapping of metal or lead or random assorted furniture against the skin of Michael was making his guts churn.
"Why do I have to be here?"He questioned."Couldn't I stay up at the room?"
"Everyone has to be here when people are interrogated,sir,"Toro answered dutifully,like a screen actor from a script.
That was true.They-Frank and Toro-were seated just outside of the torture chamber,with around thirty others waiting in the main hall,and a select few accompanying Gerard.
"Teach a lesson,I guess,sir."
Frank groaned again and clutched his stomach,fearing his dinner would make a long-awaited return."I think I'm gonna puke."
A sudden,English-spoken scream of "please no,Gerard,please no GET IT AWAY FROM ME!" reverberated shrilly in both men's craniums,causing Frank's fingers to enter his mouth at rapid speed,and Raymond's hand to start shaking.
Toro regained masculinity after several moments.
"Would you...ah...like me to consort you to the restroom,sir?"
At times like this Frank hated being deficient.
Toro had the tact and social tolerance to cop on.
"Do you want me to go with you to the jacks?"
Frank smiled sickly,now turning an eerie shade of off-white."No,it's fine."He slumped back into the chair."And you don't have to call me that."
Frank smiled politely."That.Sir."He shrugged,trying to ignore the rapid Italian presumed threats feet away from him."Just call me Frank."
"Whaddaya mean?"Frank tried to laugh,but it just came out as a choked splutter.
"Just can't.Coro told us not to."
Frank mentally flipped himself off for not listening in Italian when he was in school.Damn mobsters and their patriotic culture...
"What's that mean?"
"Short for decoro."Frank was surprised to hear Ray sounded slightly bored,pissed off even."Italian for decorum,or dignity."
Iero nodded.That made sense.
A silence hung between the two men.It wasn't awkward or uncomfortable,but...shared,if that makes enough sense.
"He really is different around you,isn't he?"Inquired Ray quietly,unloading the magazine and letting the silver bullets fall to the ground slowly,each with a metallic and defined clack.
Before answering the question,Frank was extremely disturbed to hear the weak pants of Michael through the thin walls.
"What do you mean?"Frank whispered back.Gerard's hearing probably wasn't so shitty,even above the tormented wails of his younger brother.
"Around you he's so calm,"he seemed to be choosing his words carefully,"so...soft-spoken.Gentle,I guess.And well,"he snorted,"you've seen him at his worst."
Frank nodded for about the seventh time during the conversation.
"He obviously cares about you a lot,y'know.And we freaking appreciate the change."
"You put him in a good mood,him in a good mood equals less beating people up and a lot more chilling at home watching the game,"Ray shrugged.
"You don't...you don't like being in a gang?"
He barked a laugh,a sound without humor."Lemme put it this way,Frank...joining a gang's a lot like a tattoo.Seems a great idea when you're sixteen,but once you hit twenty-five,and you've got a wife and kids..."he shook his head,tutting softly.
"My wife got harassed when she was buyin' dresses.That's just...shitty,ya know?"
"Christa?But she's so nice!"
"She's my world,"blushed Ray,"but fuckers don't give a shit about that..."he spat on the ground.Frank could practically feel Ray's hate radiating from him.
"He show you the mark yet?"
Ray smiled in pity and lifted up the hem of his dress trousers,showing a deep engraved W in the middle of his shin.The peculiar thing about the tattoo was that the first V was highlighted in blood red,entwining in harmony with the 23rd letter.
"The W is for Way,which is fairly obvious,"Raymond told Frank,pointing to the indicated area,"and then the V is for vendetta,the Italian for revenge.Every member has the mark,and it's branded wherever you get your first shot."
The pant leg fell back over skin,and Frank withdrew his vision.He could hear Gerard in the chamber,softly chanting verses of a dead language,another person whimpering in the background.
"That's not Italian,is it?"
"No.Orationem mortuorum.Latin."Raymond shuddered."Think so.Apart from Italian and English,I'm not so good with the languages thing."
"Same here,"Frank agreed,feeling his admiration for the afro man grow.
"Do you know where Gerard has his mark?"
"That's one of the first times I've heard someone refer to him by his first name,"Ray chortled,"he must really fucking like you!"
"He first got shot by his dad when he was a kid,but it's only when you're in the gang,so...probably on his prosthetic,"figured Raymond."Ya know,where he got shot up."
"Where you there when it happened?"
"Met him just afterwards."Ray let out a low whistle."Not pretty.It was my first raid as well,and I thought I was fucking dying,though I just got a graze on the leg.His entire leg was just bright red,pumping more red...fucking horrible."
Frank listened intently,the murmurings still being hummed next door.
"We made him go to the hospital,"continued Ray,"and then they said there was evidence of malignancy.Apparently he'd had it for months."
"Malignancy,"Ray muttered in an oddly respectful tone,"is cancer."
"Holy shit,"Frank whispered,biting his lip.
"They offered him chemo,but he said no.Only other option was amputation,which he went for.But he refused to go under anesthetic because he thought he might give away our secrets."
"So he did it anyway.They just did it with him completely conscious."
"Oh My God,"petitioned Frank,"that must have hurt so much.He must be in so much pain all the time."
Neither man had heard the door creak open and the tall,raven-haired man with the limp return to the hallway.
"It did and I am,"he informed to the two,"let's go.We're done here."
"Mi dispiace,signore,non avrei detto nulla,per favore,non fargli del male-"
Gerard slammed the door of the bedroom,sending a loud and clear message to all visitors within the household.Frank was sat on the bed,legs crossed,sucking on his bottom lip in anticipation.
Gerard's face,neck,shirt,trousers,shoes and hands were completely bathed in blood,red liquid sloshed around his extremities,like he had dipped in red paint.He looked vehement,and had not spoken nor touched Frank since exiting the chamber.Only to Raymond,in chipped,cantankerous Italian.
Frank had to hand it to his fiancee,he was very good at being intimidating.
"They have all left now,"he told the room,"I have instructed them to return in the morning to clean up the blood in the basement."
"Okay,"bleated Frank,looking up at Gerard with meek,deep eyes,watching him strip to the waist and enter the bathroom.
"I'm going for a bath."
Frank nodded,and winced when the door boomed throughout the house.The gush of water assured Iero that he was safely out of earshot.
That was when tears started streaming down the boy's ample cheeks,making his breath hitch in his throat and sucking in breath from his chest.He felt sad,angry,confused,pathetic-he was crying because Gerard was a bit pissed;what the fuck did he expect,the man just fucking killed his brother.
Frank just hated the feeling of being hated by Gerard.
Then he saw it,gleaming on the dresser.It was from Gerard's holster,Frank noted due to his many times of fastening the belt around his waist,and it had been splashed and lathered in Michael's blood.Apart from that,it was nick-free and sharp.
Frank suddenly felt himself drawn to the knife,no,the dagger;and found himself picking it up and gazing at it dreamily,his bottom lip pushing out into a small involuntary pout as he surveyed it.
Then he heard the bathroom door click,and it shocked him,throwing himself into accelerated distress,and the knife slipped through his grasp,slicing open his palm.He gasped and cried out in abrupt,sharp,shooting pain,the blade falling to the ground.
Tears scorched the back of his eyes as he whimpered,feeling faint at the sight of blood.
"Frank,what the he-"he saw the blood and skidded across to him,carefully taking Frank's reddening hand in his,cautious not to agitate the already agitated wound.
"Shh,baby,I got it,"soothed Gerard,letting Frank's blood drip down his arm,the warm trickles oozing down his freshly washed flesh,"don't worry,sugar,I'll fix it,just relax,hold your arm up,that's it,sweetie,keep looking at me,just keep looking at me."
Frank was beginning to feel light headed,black splotches appearing in front of his vision,his breathing becoming labored,falling against Gerard,hair brushing against the paler's cheek.
"Breathe,honey,just breathe,"Gerard advised,ripping off a strip of material from his nearby shirt and winding it round and round his spurting palm,"just inhale deeply and lean on me,babe,and if you feel faint just lean forward."
Frank felt dazed and heavy,his face buried in Gerard's shoulder,gasping for breath,shuddering and spluttering.
"Can you hear me,Frankie?Nod if you can,baby."
Frank barely moved,but Gerard took this as a promising sign.
"Good,"he purred,rubbing Frank's back soothingly,taking his hand back again and patting it,kissing his cheek."Christ,don't you fucking do that again."He let out a shaky chuckle."You had me really fucking scared there,honey."
"You were mad at me."
"I got...scared."He felt stupid now,utterly ashamed."I'm sorry."
"Don't be,"Gerard mumbled,"I was just being a cunt,and I'm fucking sorry."
He silently locked lips with Frank,still perched on the dressing table stool,until a disembodied voice from across the room boomed:
"You should be,Gerard.Indeed you should be."
Ooooh look at me and mah cliffhanger!!
And I just completely ruined it.Oh well.
I REGRET NOTHING.